Murder at the Manse (The Falconer Files Book 5)

by Andrea Frazer

  ‘Non!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I go ’ome, so you must drive me.’

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’

  ‘I go ’ome now. I do not do thees job. It is not nice job.’

  ‘You lazy little tripe-hound! How dare you put me to all the trouble I’ve had this morning actually getting you here and then say you’re not going to do any work.’

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ Falconer interjected, being averse to seeing a good quality carpet covered in torn out clumps of hair. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Falconer of Market Darley CID, and this is my partner, Detective Sergeant Carmichael. And you are?’

  It was the Englishwoman who spoke first, making it quite clear that she was the one in charge. ‘I am Alison Meercroft, founder and owner of DisguiserGuys Costume Hire, and this …’ Here, she dismissed the Frenchwoman with a sneer and a flick of her wrist. ‘This excuse for a human being you see before you, is my ex-employee, Céline Treny, who, I must say, is the laziest individual I have ever had the misfortune to come across.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘OK, Sergeant. Not now!’

  ‘But, what you said …’

  With an effort to quell his sergeant’s heavy hints, he raised his voice, addressing the young Frenchwoman, who stood sulkily before him, and announced, ‘Céline Treny, I need you to go to police headquarters, to provide us with information on the attempted murder of Antoine de la Robe. I shall summon a car from Market Darley to take you there, where you will be asked to wait, until I am free to speak to you.’

  ‘You are arresting me? Ah do nossing!’

  ‘You are not being formally arrested, but failure to cooperate may result in my having to go through the formal arrest procedure. At the moment, I am merely asking you to do as I have requested.’

  Even Alison Meercroft was shaken at this abrupt turn of events.

  ‘Is that really necessary? We’re not actually part of the hotel set-up. We’re only here to provide the costumes and accessories, and Céline has only just started working for me – or not, as the case may be,’ she added, with a flash of her previous ire.

  ‘It is wholly necessary, Ms Meercroft. Something has occurred that we require Mademoiselle Treny to explain to us, and I think that would be better done at the station. I’ll get a car organised now, and I want you two to stay in here together. I don’t want you to leave the room without my say so, and I mean not even for the bathroom, or a sneaky cigarette. The doors opening on to the grounds were locked last night, and I have requested that they remain so. My sergeant and I will be in earshot, so stay put, and save us all a lot of unnecessary bother.’

  With that, he shut his mouth with an almost audible snap, and bade Carmichael follow him back to the drawing room where, holding up his hand to keep the younger man at bay, he made a call requesting that PCs Green and Starr be sent straight to the hotel. It was necessary that he should have a female officer in attendance, and Starr had finished her spell of hospital visiting shortly after she had made her call to him, her relief being present, and just stuffing a doughnut and a coffee down his neck before he took his place beside Chef’s bed.

  As he replaced his mobile phone back in his inner jacket pocket, Carmichael seized his chance, and said, ‘That was quick work, sir. Do you think we’ve got our poisoner?’

  ‘Well, it seems a bit too much of a coincidence that her name is Céline, she’s French, and she’s only just started her job. Now, I don’t know how common the name Céline is in France, but when we’ve got a Frenchman who’s nearly gone to that great kitchen in the sky, muttering that same name from his hospital bed, and a Céline who was, presumably, in the building when he ingested the poison, it doesn’t do to give that young lady the chance to make a bolt for it; especially in these days of unrecorded border crossings for EU residents. If it was her, she could have been back in la belle France by teatime, and us scratching our heads and looking like a right pair of idiots.’

  ‘Way to go, sir! What’s next?’

  ‘Oh, I think we’ll take a little stroll in the grounds, and join the guests for a bite of lunch. After all, we can hardly nip off to a little café or a pub from an out-of-the-way place like this, and I can see signs of a meal being set up out front. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity of a little mouthful, and we can do a bit of eavesdropping, and a bit of casual questioning while we’re about it. It’s a relatively small number of people, and they can hardly snub us, given the circumstances. Hungry, Carmichael?’

  ‘Starving!’

  ‘I just hope they’ve got enough,’ murmured the inspector, surveying his partner’s vast frame.

  ‘What was that, sir?’

  ‘Nothing, Sergeant.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot to ask you earlier. Kerry says, would you like to come for your tea tonight? She doesn’t like to think of you sitting down to eat with no one for company, and the boys would love to see you; and Fang and Mr Knuckles too, sir. They really took to you, the last time you visited.’

  And if chewing holes in the bottoms of his trouser legs was a sign of affection, then who was Falconer to argue with him? Put that together with the facts that he still hadn’t managed to get to the shops, and he wasn’t particularly fond of the slacks he had grabbed this morning, and he supposed he’d better accept. It might even be fish fingers, if he was lucky!

  III

  They had eventually taken their food into the drawing room, their presence at the picnic being about as welcome as a fart in a lift, and it was while Carmichael was back outside, vacuuming up the leftovers before they could be taken back to the kitchen, that Falconer received a call from Dr Christmas.

  ‘Here’s a facer for you, old man. That dude that went a-tumbling down the stairs may have had a little help.’

  ‘What?’ Falconer’s heart sank. Surely this had just been an unfortunate accident.

  ‘We found a bit of a clue on the poor sod’s right buttock.’

  ‘Not a boot mark? Surely nobody here wears Doc Martens?’

  ‘No, nothing that obvious. What we did find was a couple of little cuts; nothing more than puncture really, but they were fresh.’

  ‘Somebody bit him on the bum?’

  ‘Nice try, Harry! Then we could just take impressions of all the teeth, and get our man – or woman. No, I’m not quite sure what pierced the skin, but the two marks are small, clean-edged, and only about an inch apart – sorry, that was in old money – call that two to two-and-a-half centimetres. Single-edged blades, if they were blades. I’ve taken some photographs, so that we can look at them at a much higher magnification.’

  ‘Oh joy! A close-up of old Mr Newberry’s right buttock. I can hardly wait. But you think that someone may have used something to startle him?’

  ‘It would certainly have done that. At the top of staircase, and caught off-balance, it would then have been the easiest thing in the world to give him a little shove, to send him on his way.’

  ‘But I was told there was a cat’s howl when he went down, and that he’d tripped over that cat the housekeeper treats like a baby. I was hoping to put it down to a simple accident.’

  ‘You can hope as much as you like, old boy, but it won’t make it so, I’m afraid. You can put it down to Count Dracula himself fancying a nice piece of rump steak, if the fancy takes you, but the puncture wounds still stand, and that was no accident. I think you’ve got another murder on your hands, and that’s what I shall put in my report.’

  ‘Damn! Now I don’t know whether I’m looking for one or two murderers.’

  ‘And don’t forget the jolly old poisoning. It could yet be three, and if it isn’t, you’ve still got an ‘attempted’ on your hands. It looks like they hunt in packs at that place.’

  ‘Thanks a bunch, Christmas. I curse thee. May thou suffer the indignity of haemorrhoids. And if that’s not enough, may thou also have builders in.’

  ‘Haemorrhoids I can deal with, but spare me that last. I promise to give you not
hing but good news from this date forth.’

  ‘Done!’

  ‘You’re welcome!’

  As he ended the call, Carmichael returned, his mouth still full of sandwich, his jaws fighting to masticate the sheer volume contained within his mouth.

  ‘Had enough?’ asked Falconer.

  The head nodded.

  ‘Any left?’

  The head shook from side to side.

  ‘Right. Let’s get back to business. That cat of yours on the stairs, when Newberry fell was, in fact, a red herring.’

  With an enormous swallow and a slight bulging of the eyes as he suppressed a belch, Carmichael recovered the ability to speak, but didn’t make full use of it, merely asking, ‘What?’ before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘I’ll explain later. Now, let’s get off and have a little chat with the widow, see if the man had any enemies. I want to conduct the interviews in the rooms which will have become their comfort zones over the last couple of days, maybe even identify a murder weapon or two. I know it sounds like Fat Chance City, but we’ve got to make the effort.’

  IV

  Teddy Newberry received them with dignity. Her eyes were swollen and puffy where she had wept, but overall she presented a solid front, and bade them sit down in the two armchairs which flanked a small table at the far end of the room, and after they had introduced themselves, she perched on the end of the bed, waiting to see what was expected of her.

  ‘We’re very sorry for your loss, Mrs Newberry. The suddenness of it must have been a tremendous shock.’ Falconer was solicitude personified.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m not one to dwell on the negative.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Not at all. I’ve had all night to think about what I’m going to do. Fortuitously, a friend of mine who works for a children’s home offered me a job only a few days ago. Of course, I said nothing to old Fruity, because it was as a live-in house mother, and it would be tantamount to leaving the old boy, but I have been a bit browned off lately.

  ‘Gambling is such an unreliable way of earning one’s daily bread, and I’m getting a bit long in the tooth for working in a casino. I’d tried to get Fruity to understand that I wasn’t getting any younger and, at my age, the possibility of not being able to pay the rent at the end of the month was a positive horror.

  ‘I was going to speak to him this weekend. In fact, I rather think he booked the weekend because he could tell that there was something wrong, but he’d never do anything sensible, like ask me what was bothering me. He might not get the answer he wanted, then he might have to consider changing his lifestyle, and that wasn’t what Fruity was about. He was a born gambler – loved the thrill of it; the adrenaline rush.

  ‘Me, I couldn’t bear it lately. I’d given up the idea of ever having children, because we led such a precarious life. One month we’d be drinking champagne and dining in the best restaurants, the next, I’d be scrabbling down the back of the sofa, just to find a few quid to buy basic foodstuffs.

  ‘No, I’d definitely had enough. I wanted some stability. I wanted little ones to love and care for, and to know I wouldn’t have to do a moonlight flit when the bills got too high. I’ve dodged many a bailiff in my time, and I can tell you, it’s an overrated pastime.

  ‘Fruity would just have gone on as he was. He was never the faithful type, and it never used to matter before, because he always came home to me, but lately I’ve just found his philandering boring and childish. I’ve always come second in our relationship, and I wasn’t willing to do that any more.

  ‘I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, with Fruity hardly cold, but I’ve rung my friend, and told her I’ll be accepting the post. I’ll move in at the end of the month, as soon as I’ve had the chance to clear the flat. It will be a relief to get something satisfying back into my life, and be able to call it my own for a change. I might not have had the chance to say anything to him, although, God knows, I’ve dropped enough hints, but I was about to give him the old heave-ho, and sail off into calmer waters for a change. Well, there! I’m glad to have got that off my chest.’

  ‘I’ll bet you are,’ thought Falconer, but instead, said, ‘I’m afraid we have some very grave news for you, about your husband’s demise, Mrs Newberry. I’m sorry to have to tell you that he was, in all probability, murdered.’

  That had shocked her. ‘So, when I went into the billiards room and discovered that footman dead, someone was actually murdering my poor old Fruity? Oh, he didn’t deserve that, whatever I thought of him!’

  ‘Exactly so, Mrs Newberry. I’m afraid his death was no accident. Evidence from the post mortem shows that he received a small but startling injury, just before he lost his balance. He didn’t fall by pure accident. We have reason to believe that he was helped on his way by person or persons unknown. Do you know if your husband had any enemies, or if anyone had a grudge against him?’

  ‘Pass me some paper and I’ll make a list. Oh, don’t look so surprised, but don’t expect it to be of any help to you either. When Fruity won, he usually won big, hence the champagne, and a lot of bookies in our area would like to have seen him move to the other end of the country. But here? In this out-of-the-way hotel?’

  She paused momentarily as a thought struck her. ‘Although I do believe there is someone staying here that had previously made his acquaintance. I can’t be one hundred per cent sure, but I’d be willing to bet on it, and on the nose.’

  V

  They moved on, past the green and dove-grey rooms, towards the white and gold room that housed the Veedes. It seemed best to interview the guests first, as they would get restive in the very near future, and demand to be allowed to leave. The staff, provided they kept a discreet surveillance of the exits, could wait a while.

  The reason they had decided on this direction, and not towards the front left hand corner of the building to the pink room, was because they could hear what sounded like an argument in full swing, between the occupants of room number six, and where there was an argument, there were bound to be things said in the heat of the moment that may have been best left unsaid and confined to silence.

  ‘But I saw you with my own eyes. I know I couldn’t remember anything yesterday morning, but as soon as I felt better, I could see what had happened. It was like a sleazy movie, right in front of my eyes, you faithless cow. And I checked your mobile.’

  ‘How dare you interfere with my phone!’

  ‘See! You wouldn’t have reacted like that, if you were perfectly innocent.’

  ‘I am perfectly innocent.’

  ‘My big fat hairy arse, you are! What was all that about meeting someone in the summerhouse, when the old man was asleep then? I am supposing here that ‘the old man’ referred to me?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘The hell you don’t! There’s no point in denying it. I’ve read your texts. Don’t you understand, I’ve seen …’

  A firm knock at the door interrupted this heated discussion, and there was a short interval of silence, before Lew slowly drew it open to greet the two detectives, his face red with anger, a vein beating a rapid tattoo in his left temple.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked, his voice husky with suppressed emotion.

  ‘Market Darley CID. We’d like a word with you and your wife, if that’s all right with you, sir,’ Falconer informed him, already pushing the door open wider, so that they could enter.

  ‘If you mean about that footman who got murdered, you’re wasting your time. We’ve never come into contact with any members of the staff here before in our lives, and if it’s about whatever that ghastly noise from the kitchen was, you can discount that as well. Neither of us has ever set foot in that room. In fact, I’m beginning to wish neither of us had ever set foot in this bloody hotel.’

  ‘Language, sir! Lady present!’ interjected Carmichael, before he could help himself, but his remark hit home.

  ‘I’m s
orry. This weekend’s been a total nightmare from start to finish, as far as I’m concerned. I never wanted to come here in the first place. It was all Sue’s idea, and now here we are, mixed up in murder, and at each other’s throats to boot.’

  ‘You started it!’ This was Sue Veede, who had risen from her seat at the dressing table, and seemed ready to give battle again.

  ‘I rather think you did, my dear little trollop. I think you already knew that bewigged old lecher. In fact, if my memory serves me correctly, you were rather odd when I got back from that unleavened and sour-dough ‘do’. You looked like the cat that’d got the cream, and you were all over me like a rash for the first couple of days afterwards. I think you’d been seeing that old bugger while I was away, and I, in my innocence, just thought you were glad to see me back.’

  ‘But I was!’

  ‘Tell that to the marines.’

  Their voices had steadily risen again, and Falconer had to shout to make himself heard. ‘Will you two shut up and listen? I’m not here about the footman or the chef. I’m here to gather information in relation to the murder of Mr Frederick Newberry, aka Fruity, until last night, resident in this hotel.’

  ‘Murder!’ It was Lew who made this exclamation, his face draining of colour.

  At exactly the same moment, Sue Veede gave a shriek and, screaming, ‘You devil! You killed him! You murdering bastard!’ She flew at him, kicking and punching and scratching like a she-devil.

  It took both Falconer and Carmichael to pull her away from the cowering figure, now with long bloody scratches down both of his cheeks, his hair awry, and one of his eyes already beginning to swell where she had landed him a nice uppercut.

  ‘Has that car arrived yet?’ asked Falconer.

  ‘No, sir, but I believe it’s due in a very short time.’