by Dean James
“Oh, dear,” said Lady Prunella.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“That is it, Lady Prunella?” I prompted her gently.
She had gone quiet and was drumming her fingers in her lap after that soft exclamation.
“It’s my fault, I fear,” she said. “You’ll think me the most idiotic creature imaginable, Simon, for not having realized it sooner.”
“For not having realized what, Lady Prunella?” I tried not to get testy with her, but my patience was fraying rapidly.
“I believe that you are quite correct in your assumption that Mr. Harwood knew about the secret passageway. Oh, really, it is all too humiliating for words.”
“What happened?”
“Earlier, in the afternoon, I could no longer restrain myself, Simon. I had to know what that awful man was doing in the drawing room, and I’m afraid I sneaked into the master bedroom when I thought they were all downstairs. I opened the door to the secret passageway, and I went down to the peephole to see what was going on.”
“Did the door squeak that time when you opened it?”
“Yes, it did! I had forgotten that,” she said, her eyes widening.
“How long were you at the peephole?”
“No more than five or six minutes,” Lady Prunella said after thinking about it for a moment. “At that time I could see no signs of red paint being used, and I was quite relieved, I must tell you! I was just upon the point of going back up the stairs when I heard Mr. Harwood tell someone he must retrieve something from his room. I thought I had best stay where I was until Mr. Harwood returned to the drawing room, then make my way up the stairs as quickly and quietly as I could, and no one would ever be the wiser.”
“How long was Harwood away from the drawing room?” I asked.
“Only five minutes or so. The time it took him to go upstairs, retrieve a pair of glasses from his room, and then come right back down again.” She sighed. “I climbed the stairs, and to my utter horror, I found that I had left the passageway door just the tiniest bit ajar.”
“Would it have been noticeable to someone in the bedroom?”
Lady Prunella nodded. “I believe so. Though if Mr. Harwood were in a great hurry, he might have missed it.”
“When the police allow us back into the room,” I said, “you’ll have to show it to me, and then we’ll see. But I think it very likely that he saw the opening, quickly investigated, and realized that someone might be inside. For whatever reason, he affected not to know about it... at least for the time being. We’ll have to question the members of his staff to find out whether he mentioned it to them.”
I sat and thought for a moment, while Lady Prunella waited in anxious silence. “I believe, Lady Prunella, that we should inform the police of the existence of the secret passageway.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, a faint tinge of red coming into her face, “If you think it best, Simon, but I do so fear that the detective inspector will think it simply proves my guilt.”
“No doubt Detective Inspector Chase’s first reaction will be irritation, Lady Prunella,” I said kindly, “but he will be quick to see the implications of your story. Though we have no other corroboration as yet that Harwood spotted the open door and might have informed his associates, I think it best if the police have their crime scene staff go over the passageway. They may well find evidence that someone besides you made use of it recently.”
“I see,” Lady Prunella said, appearing relieved. “Moreover,” I said, “I don’t believe we should run the risk of letting any possible evidence go undetected. I know it will mean a few uncomfortable moments for you, when you ’fess up to the detective inspector. In the long run, however, it’s the wisest thing to do.”
“If that is what you advise, Simon,” she said, smiling in gratitude. “I must say, I feel ever so much more confident with you assisting dear Giles and me.”
“You’re most welcome, Lady Prunella,” I said. I was quite beginning to like the old girl; she was thawing at a rapid rate toward Yours Truly.
I stood up. “I shouldn’t let any more time pass before you go to the detective inspector and amend your statement. The sooner he has his team investigate the passageway, the better.”
Lady Prunella patted her hair, as if girding herself for battle. She stood, and I followed her to the door. “Would you like me to go with you, at least as far as the library?”
“That would be most kind of you, Simon,” she said, and thus I escorted her downstairs.
I tapped on the door of the library, and in a moment, Robin’s sergeant opened it and stuck his head out. “Yes?”
“Lady Prunella wishes to amend the statement that she gave Detective Inspector Chase earlier,” I said.
“Just a tick,” Sergeant Harper said, then closed the door.
After about five minutes, the door opened again, and Giles came out. Harper motioned for Lady Prunella to enter, and with a quick, tremulous smile at Giles and me, she went inside. The door closed behind her.
“What’s going on, Simon?” Giles asked. “What is Mummy going to tell Chase?”
I glanced around. At the moment there was no one else in the hall, but I thought it best if I informed Giles of his mother’s intentions in a more private place. “Let’s go back upstairs, and I’ll tell you.”
“Very well,” Giles said, then led the way back up the stairs and down to the end of the hall to the sitting room attached to his bedroom. He closed the door behind us and motioned for me to take a seat He sat down across from me and waited.
Succinctly I related to him what had passed between his mother and me, and though he frowned, I could see that he understood the sense of my advice to Lady Prunella.
“It’s probably just as well,” Giles said, sighing. “If it were to come out later, it would look much more damaging, I suppose.”
“I think so,” I replied. “And though we have no real proof that what your mother is telling Robin is the truth, at least at the moment I believe his crime scene staff will find anything there is to find.”
“Not to mention the fact that he can question Harwood’s associates about it as well, if what you suspect is true.”
“We can have a go at them as well, once Robin is through with them,” I said.
Giles laughed, a bit sourly. “Despite the faith you claim to have in Chase’s abilities to solve this case and to treat my mother fairly, you seem nevertheless intent upon meddling.”
I took affront at that. “It didn’t seem to me that you minded my meddling, as you call it, when you phoned me this morning and asked for my assistance.”
Giles had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry, Simon, that was unworthy of me. You’re right I did ask for your help, and I’m very grateful for it Chase rather got up my nose just now. He seems to dislike me. For whatever reason, I rub him the wrong way.” He grinned. “And it’s mutual.”
“I’ve little doubt that it’s because you’ve made it painfully obvious that you don’t like him,” I said severely.
“I can’t help it if I’m jealous,” Giles said, taking affront. “The way you look at him, Simon, honestly, it’s enough to drive anyone mad.”
“Just because I look at an attractive man with interest doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Giles,” I said with asperity. “Were I to stoop so low, I might mention that I have seen you do the same thing, most particularly with one Cliff Weatherstone.”
Giles laughed. “Guilty as charged, Simon.”
I thought it best to change the subject. “I do wish I could examine this secret passageway, but I suppose we’ll have to wait until the police are finished with it. I wouldn’t want to risk contaminating any evidence they might find. Robin would be livid.”
“No doubt,” Giles said. “But honestly, there’s not much to see. It’s not terribly interesting. I played in it sometimes as a child, and once I locked my loopy sister in it for three hours when she was being particularly annoying.”
“Where is Alsati
a, by the way?”
Giles snorted. “Up in London, taking some sort of course. They don’t offer formal instruction for the kind of work she’s best suited for, though she’s had enough experience that she doesn’t need any further tutelage.” Alsatia, though barely twenty-one, had earned a reputation for being no better than she should be, having an affinity for chauffeurs, under-gardeners, and grooms who were ill-bred, rough around the edges, and sexually attractive.
There seemed to be no polite rejoinder to that. There was little love lost between the siblings, who barely tolerated each other at the best of times.
Before I could attempt to change the subject Giles was off on a rant about his sister and the money she cost the family with her various scrapes. As I listened, waiting for an opportune moment to inject a change of subject I began to feel deuced odd. I could hear Giles speaking, as if from a distance, but the beat of his heart and the throb of the blood in his veins grew ever stronger, until that was all I could hear. At that point all I could think about was how desperately I needed to be able to get up from my chair and take Giles in my arms. I wanted to bite his handsome neck more than I had ever wanted anything.
“Simon. Simon!” Giles spoke with increasing urgency, and my vision cleared long enough for me to see him standing over me, alarm in his face. “What’s wrong? You have the queerest look on your face? Are you ill?”
“Pill,” I managed to croak. My right hand fumbled at the inside pocket of my jacket and Giles, understanding, reached inside and retrieved the pillbox, opened it, and extracted a pill for me. My hand was shaking too badly to manage to get the pill on my own, so I simply opened my mouth, and Giles dropped the pill inside. I swallowed. Giles disappeared for a moment then came back with a glass of water. He held the glass to my mouth, and I took a few sips.
The pill acted quickly, and in a few moments, my vision had cleared completely and my hands had stopped shaking. The sound of Giles’s heartbeat had also receded. He knelt by my side, worry writ large in his face.
“Will you be all right now, Simon? Or should I summon a doctor?”
“No, Giles, thank you, I’ll be okay in a moment.”
“What happened, Simon? I was afraid for a moment you were going to collapse.”
“Sorry to alarm you. Just a very minor heart condition,” I said, and in a way it was true. “As long as I take my medication, everything is fine. I must have forgotten to take my pill when I should have.” That was a lie. I had taken my pill, had even taken an extra one, but this batch must be particularly weak. When I returned to Laurel Cottage, I would order a new supply posthaste.
“If you’re sure, Simon,” Giles said, seating himself across from me. “But you still look a bit peaked.”
The pill I had just taken must have been a full-strength one, for I could feel myself returning to normal. I smiled at him. “I’m really fine, Giles. The pill has done its job, and there’s nothing that need worry you.”
Giles continued to regard me with concern, and I decided a change of subject was most definitely in order.
“Tell me what you know about Jessamy Cholmondley-Pease, Giles.”
“Jessamy?” Giles grinned. “Beyond her obvious lack of taste and breeding, you mean?”
I forbore to comment, and he continued. “She was the first to ring Mummy and offer her services, to assist in any way she could. She seemed utterly fascinated by Harwood, and I’d say she was willing to do anything she could to get close to him.” He shrugged. “But I’m afraid she was disappointed in that regard. He wouldn’t allow anyone but members of his crew to enter the drawing room. I daresay poor Jessamy got little reward for her labors.”
“But she was here yesterday, while Harwood and his crew were at work?”
“Oh, yes,” Giles said. “She practically haunted the hallway, getting in the way more often than she did anything of use. She kept trying to talk to Dittany Harwood, of all people, but whenever Zeke spotted her, she would scamper off. Mummy wanted to send her away, but she didn’t want to offend the woman because of her husband.”
“Ah, yes, dear old Desmond. Your mother wouldn’t want to alienate the local councillor, I take it.”
Giles shook his head. “Mummy has some project cooking that would need his approval, and she didn’t want to risk queering the pitch. Our Jessamy fair rides roughshod over her husband, and he daren’t do anything that she was against.”
“Interesting,” I said. “What else do you know about her? Age, background, and so on.”
“I presume you’ll explain to me at some point why this great interest in her?” Giles waited for my nod before going on. “She’s local, actually. Grew up here, and her father, name of Macleod, was actually head gardener here in my grandfather’s time. According to what my father told me, years ago Grandfather and Macleod were great cronies. My grandfather was gardening mad, and he supposedly spent more time with Macleod than he did with my grandmother.”
Giles stopped with a laugh. “And if you’d ever known my grandmother, Simon, you’d understand why. She died when I was six or seven, and a more sour, desiccated specimen I’ve yet to meet. She terrified me.”
I found these bits of family history interesting, but I wasn’t sure they were much to the point. “And Jessamy?” I prompted him.
“I reckon she’s pushing fifty,” Giles said, “though if you asked her, she’s just turned thirty. She certainly tries to dress that way, though if she convinces anyone, they must be blind.”
“Has she always lived in Snupperton Mumsley?”
“No. According to local gossip, she was no better than she should have been when she was a teenager, and ran off to London with some kind of traveling salesman. She came back about fifteen years ago, no sign of a child or a wedding ring, met dear old Des, and married him. His star began to rise after that, because Jessamy relentlessly pushed him into local politics.” He paused. “To give the devil her due, she’s rather shrewd and has a good head for politics. Together they make a pretty effective team.”
Giles’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Now, Simon, why all this interest in Jessamy?”
I told him about finding her lurking in the bushes outside the drawing room last night. “I think it would be a good idea to find out what she was doing there.”
“Oh, most definitely,” Giles said. “Wouldn’t it be absolutely delicious if Jessamy turned out to be the murderer?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A knock on the door interrupted further speculation upon Jessamy Cholmondley-Pease’s possible guilt in the murder of Zeke Harwood.
“Yes?” Giles called.
Thompson opened the door. “Begging your pardon, Sir Giles,” he said, “but you are needed in the library. The detective inspector wishes a word with you.”
“Very well, Thompson,” Giles said, rising. “I’ll be right down.”
“Very good, sir,” Thompson responded, closing the door.
“Would you like me to hang around, Giles? If not, I think I’ll track down Jessamy and try to winkle the truth out of her.”
“I think tackling our Jessamy is most definitely in order,” Giles said, heading for the door. “But if there’s some sort of emergency, I’ll ring you on your mobile.”
I followed Giles in more leisurely fashion downstairs.
I had thought I might encounter Lady Prunella again and be needed in my new role as advisor and comforter to her ladyship, but evidently she was seeking solace elsewhere at the moment. No one else sought to detain me, and I was soon in my car, heading in search of our Jessamy.
The Cholmondley-Peases lived on the other side of Snupperton Mumsley from Blitherington Hall, on a small but upscale estate not far from my own Laurel Cottage. The estate consisted of five very posh mock-Tudor houses, each every bit as pretentious as the other. Four of them, according to what I had been told, were weekend “cottages” belonging to businessmen who lived and worked in London during the week and who retreated to Snupperton Mumsley for a taste of v
illage life.
On the brief drive I reviewed and discarded several approaches for getting the desired information out of Jessamy, finally settling upon the one I suspected would appeal most to her vanity.
I parked in front of the house and walked up the path to the door. Before I had the chance to knock, the door opened to reveal a smiling Violet Glubb.
“Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Kayjay,” she gushed. “You come to call on Mrs. Ceepee?”
“Hello, Vi,” I said, stepping into the hallway. “Fancy meeting you here.” I peeled off my hat and gloves and handed them to the daily, who stood there looking at them with a frown. Finally she plunked them down on a nearby table and turned back to beam cheerfully at me. “Mrs. Ceepee’s back in the kitchen, if you’ll just come along. She sent me to the door because she was busy chin-wagging on the phone.”
“How long have you been working for Mrs., um, Ceepee?” I asked, rather doubting that Jessamy would relish her chatting on the phone being described as “chin-wagging.”
“Since last week,” Vi said, leading me down the hallway. “She has terrible trouble, she says, keeping help, what with her and her hubby entertaining so much. There’s ever so much cleaning to do, but I told her, Vi Glubb has never backed off from a challenge, and what’s a few extra dirty dishes, I says.”
Vi kept me entertained in such fashion all the way to the kitchen, and I had little time to notice much about the decor of the hallway, other than that it was quite tasteful. Someone besides Jessamy must have been in charge of that, I speculated rather cattily. I had frankly been surprised not to find the walls covered in some sort of dreadful leopard-print wallpaper.
Vi thrust open the door to the kitchen and announced, “It’s Mr. Kirbyjones from Laurel Cottage, mum, come to call. You want I should put the kettle on for tea?”
A telephone stuck in her ear, Jessamy looked up with a frown, quickly masked. “Yes, next Tuesday at eight Yes, that’s fine. Ta very much.” She put down the receiver, then stood up. “This is an unexpected pleasure, Professor.”
