A Fête Worse Than Death

by Dolores Gordon-Smith

  ‘Finished,’ said Dr Wilcott, laconically. ‘There’s a nasty cut on the left side of his chin that you ought to know about. It looks as if someone thumped him. What? The spade? Yes, that could’ve been the weapon. The cause of death is definitely a single gunshot to the right temple and the death occurred approximately an hour and thirty or forty minutes ago, give or take fifteen minutes or so on either side. This warm weather makes it a nice matter to judge, but he’s been in the shade since he died. What’s the time now? Twenty to one? If you call it eleven o’clock you won’t be so far out. Yes, Major?’

  ‘I heard what I thought was a shot at eleven o’clock and when I looked at the body at fourteen minutes past, he was still warm but the blood had congealed.’

  ‘Good man. That ties in with what I thought. I’d say eleven’s your time, Superintendent, but don’t try and pin me down to the exact minute on the medical evidence because neither I nor anyone else who knows their job would go along with it.’ He picked his case up. ‘Now, I believe I have a patient to attend to. I hope he’s not suffered as a result of my coming here first.’

  ‘I’ll join you,’ said Ashley. ‘I could do with a few words with Mr Lawrence. What about you, Haldean?’

  ‘I’ll come too. I’ll have to give Mr Lawrence a lift back to Hesperus in any case.’

  Ashley nodded. ‘Fair enough. Mr Dutton, I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to walk back to the village, unless you want to wait for my return. If you leave your camera here I’ll let you have it back as soon as possible. Constable Hawley, stay here until you’re relieved.’ He turned back to the doctor. ‘Ready when you are, sir.’

  They were shown into the morning room by Mrs Verrity herself. Lawrence was still asleep but started to wake up when Dr Wilcott stooped over him.

  ‘You made a good job of this bandage, Mrs Verrity,’ said the doctor, approvingly. ‘Hold still please, Mr Lawrence . . . The iodine should’ve helped. This is a nice clean cut. Sore, I should imagine, but not serious. The bruising should fade in a few days. Vision all right? I don’t think there’s any concussion but if your sight becomes blurred or you start to feel sick or giddy, lie down and have someone send for me right away. That’s a nasty bruise on your chin. How did you come by that?’

  ‘I wish I knew,’ said Lawrence, feeling his chin tenderly. ‘Would it be possible to have a drink? Water, I mean, or tea? And would you mind opening the windows?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Mrs Verrity. She threw open the french windows, which, true to her Continental upbringing, had been tightly closed, then rang the bell and gave instructions for a pot of tea to be brought. When the maid had left the room she looked appealingly at Ashley. ‘Please, Superintendent, will you tell me what happened?’ She swallowed. ‘Ever since Major Haldean left I’ve been dreading what you might say’ She squared her shoulders and pointed her chin outwards. ‘I’d rather know.’

  ‘Just a moment, Mrs Verrity,’ said Ashley with some gentleness. ‘I’d rather hear Mr Lawrence’s side of the story first. Now, sir. You’d agreed to meet Colonel Whitfield at eleven o’clock this morning?’

  ‘That’s right. You were there when I got his note. I sent back a reply which he should’ve got in this morning’s post.’

  ‘And you wanted to meet him, as I recall, to tell him, as you put it, “some home truths”. What home truths were they, Mr Lawrence?’

  He shifted in his chair. ‘I didn’t like the way he was still doing his best to persuade Marguerite to marry him. As you know, I didn’t think it was marriage he was after, so much as money After all, the man admitted it, that night in your garden, Mrs Verrity. As a trustee it was my privilege to turn down any man I thought had unworthy motives, and I thought his motives were as unworthy as they come.’ He paused. ‘That was it, really Just the same old stuff.’

  Ashley nodded. ‘I see. Nothing, in fact, that you hadn’t told him before?’

  Lawrence met his eyes squarely ‘Nothing new at all.’

  Haldean, sitting to one side of Lawrence, was struck by the way his hand tightened on the arm of the chair. He’s lying, he thought with absolute conviction. There is something else there.

  ‘It seems a great deal of trouble to take when you had nothing new to say to him, sir,’ said Ashley politely. ‘Surely you could have stated in your letter that you had nothing more to add to your refusal of your consent to his marriage to Miss Vayle?’

  Lawrence shrugged. ‘I guess so.’ He felt his chin again. ‘I wish now that’s what I had done, but at the time I thought if I actually saw the man I could convince him there was no chance I’d change my mind. You see, Superintendent, I felt I was preventing a disastrous marriage. Marguerite had herself pegged as Juliet and me as the old buffer standing in the way of True Love but it wasn’t like that. If Whitfield had had any feeling for the girl he’d have either eloped or simply waited until she was twenty-one and free to marry whoever she pleased. But that wouldn’t do for him. He wanted the money and wasn’t prepared to wait. I wasn’t prepared to sit back and let her marry someone like that, even if she hated me for it. I couldn’t give a damn what he thought.’

  ‘And so you went to see him. What happened then?’

  ‘It was as I told Major Haldean here. I arrived a few minutes early and stood outside the barn until eleven o’clock. I couldn’t hear or see any sign of him but I didn’t want to give the man the excuse of saying I hadn’t shown up. On the stroke of eleven I went into the barn and something hit me. I went down flat and must’ve been knocked out because the next thing I recall is coming to and walking out of the barn straight into the arms of the Major. I didn’t see anything else. At the time I thought Whitfield had hit me – I still think it was Whitfield – but what happened between me being hit and waking up again I’ve got no more idea of than the man in the moon.’

  The door opened and the maid brought in the tea. ‘Put it on the table, Norah,’ said Mrs Verrity, absently. ‘Mr Lawrence, where is Colonel Whitfield now? I cannot believe he assaulted you in that cowardly manner. Have you been to see him, Superintendent? Why don’t you ask him what happened?’

  Ashley hesitated and glanced across to Haldean.

  Mrs Verrity looked from one to the other quickly. ‘What is it?’ she asked, a hard edge to her voice. ‘Tell me what it is.’

  Haldean got to his feet and stood with his back to the mantelpiece. He felt a sudden wave of sympathy for the lovely woman with her tense, white face. ‘I’m awfully sorry, Mrs Verrity. There’s no easy way to say this. You see, Colonel Whitfield’s dead.’

  Her eyes grew wider and she gave the tiniest shake of her head. ‘Non.’ It was almost inaudible.

  ‘It’s quite true, I’m afraid.’

  She continued to stare at him then gradually lowered her head. He heard the single whispered word ‘Non’ once more and then there was silence. The seconds on the mantelpiece clock ticked away and all the outside noises – the song of a blackbird, the far-off clatter of a lawnmower – seemed unnaturally loud. ‘How?’ It was another whisper.

  Haldean cleared his throat. ‘It looks as if he shot himself,’ he began, but she interrupted him fiercely.

  ‘Never! Richard would never do such a thing, never! Someone killed him – murdered him. When did it happen? I might have seen something. One of the men might have seen something. Tell me when it happened.’

  ‘We think it was about eleven o’clock this morning,’ said Ashley, his eyes fixed on her.

  She put a hand to her forehead. ‘Eleven o’clock? Where was I at eleven? I’d been out in the garden most of the morning . . . I can’t remember.’

  ‘If you please, mum,’ said Norah the maid, with a little bob of a curtsey, ‘you were in here at eleven o’clock. You’d rung for your morning coffee and as I was bringing it I heard the clock strike in the hall.’

  Mrs Verrity looked at Norah as if she’d forgotten who she was. ‘Did it?’

  ‘Oh yes, mum. I remember it as plain as anything. You see, that’s my sign
al, like,’ she said, blushing furiously as she realized everyone in the room was looking at her. ‘Saturday mornings you have your coffee at eleven o’clock and that gives me time to wash out the cake cupboard before I come back for your coffee things, clear them away, clean the knives, get everything ready for lunch and go and change my dress to set the table. If I miss the clock it puts me out for the morning, you see, and I’ve got to hurry over the cake cupboard.’

  ‘Thank you . . .’ She roused herself with an effort. ‘Thank you, Norah. You can leave the tea. That will be all.’ She swallowed and turned to Ashley. ‘You must ask the gardeners. They might have heard something. Eleven o’clock.’ Her face suddenly altered and she spun round on Lawrence. ‘Eleven o’clock! You were there, you!’

  ‘Now don’t try and put this one on me,’ said Lawrence quickly. ‘All I know is what I’ve told you. I’m as much in the dark about this as you are.’

  ‘Oh yes? You hated Richard. Don’t try and deny it. All he wanted, God knows why, was to marry that child, Marguerite Vayle, and you stood in his way from the beginning. I didn’t want Richard to marry her, I’ll admit as much, but you – you stopped him. And to think I felt grateful when you arrived and I found out what your views were. But you! You were at the barn at eleven o’ clock! And look at you. You’ve obviously been in a fight. What did Richard do? Hit you? And you shot him.’

  ‘I didn’t!’ roared Lawrence. ‘God damn it, woman, I never laid a finger on the man. I didn’t even know he was there until Haldean found him. And as for shooting him – the idea’s ridiculous!’

  Ashley coughed. It was a polite sound but it seemed like a thunderclap. ‘I think it’s a little early to start making accusations, Mrs Verrity. There are a number of possibilities we have to follow up before we can do that.’

  ‘Before you announce you’ve got another unsolved murder, Superintendent?’ Her voice was painfully bitter. ‘There were no murders before he arrived.’ Lawrence bristled and Dr Wilcott dropped a warning hand on his shoulder. ‘Oh, why did Richard get entangled with her? He did want money, of course he wanted money, but I could’ve . . .’

  ‘Could’ve what?’ asked Haldean quietly.

  She looked at him with dry, bright eyes. ‘I could have given him money. I could have given him everything he wanted and instead he fell for that simpering schoolgirl.’ She blinked very rapidly. ‘I loved him. I’ve always loved him. Go on, smile. This is a joke, yes? I know what you’re thinking. But she’s older than him! Do you think I cared? I hoped that one day he’d grow to care for me. Other men have found me attractive, so why not him? But although he was willing to be friends he wanted nothing more. I stayed, hoping he would change his mind and grow to be fond of me. I even tried to make him jealous but nothing worked. He liked me, asked my advice, relied on my help . . . but he wouldn’t love me. And I loved him . . .’

  Haldean shifted awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry. Really sorry.’

  She looked at him with a trembling lip and tossed her head as if to keep back tears. ‘I couldn’t believe it when he fell for that girl. What did she have that I couldn’t offer him? I couldn’t tell anyone how I felt. All I had left was my pride. When the marriage was blocked I felt glad until I realized how unhappy it was making Richard. Because I loved him I wanted him to be happy. Poor Richard. And now he’s dead . . .’ She sat silently for a few moments, her hands twisted in her lap. ‘Please,’ she said, very quietly. ‘If you don’t mind I’d rather you all went now.’ She shook herself. ‘Talk to the gardeners. Talk to whomever you please but let me be by myself for a while.’

  They showed themselves out. Dr Wilcott stayed behind for a few minutes before joining them outside the front door. ‘I feel damn sorry for that woman,’ he said as they walked down the steps to the Spyker. ‘I’m glad she said what she did. It’s dangerous to keep emotions as strong as those bottled up. She’s got great self-control.’

  Lawrence sniffed in disgust. ‘I wish she’d had a sight more self-control. I was horrified when she accused me of murdering her precious Colonel. As far as I’m concerned he walloped me, then shot himself and that’s the end of that.’

  ‘Unfortunately, sir, it can’t be the end of it as far as we’re concerned,’ said Ashley politely. ‘The suicide theory may be correct but we have to look into the possibility of murder.’

  ‘You mean someone was waiting in the barn for both of us? It sounds damned unlikely to me.’

  ‘Nevertheless it’s something we have to investigate. I shall need to take your fingerprints, Mr Lawrence –’

  ‘Oh no, you don’t!’

  ‘Which you can either let me have before you go home or at the police station. It’s perfectly painless and will help us to eliminate you from our enquiries.’

  ‘You’d better take mine as well,’ put in Haldean quickly, with an eye on Lawrence’s rising colour. ‘The idea is, sir, to see from the prints who was in the barn who had a reason to be there. If there’s a set of prints belonging to a Johnny we haven’t got a record of, then we can look for him. We’ll need Dr Wilcott’s as well and anyone else who we know was around.’

  ‘Well, if that’s all, I guess you can,’ said Lawrence, mollified. ‘As you wish, Superintendent. And then, I take it, I can make arrangements to go home.’

  ‘Back to Hesperus, sir?’

  ‘Back to Canada. If this is quiet English country life you can keep it. I prefer the Rockies.’

  Ashley reached the car and paused, thinking over his words. ‘I must ask you to make no such arrangements at present, sir.’

  ‘Are you arresting me, Superintendent? No? Then I believe I can go exactly where I want to.’

  ‘Have a heart, sir,’ put in Haldean. ‘Think of Miss Vayle. She’s going to be really cut up over this. You can’t leave Uncle Philip and Aunt Alice to carry the can.’

  ‘As far as Miss Vayle’s concerned, young man, now that Colonel Whitfield is out of the picture, I have very few worries. I cannot credit that she will spend very long in mourning for him. I know she’ll be upset, but she’ll get over it. As for myself, you can’t honestly expect me to indulge in any crocodile tears for a man I disliked and distrusted. I came over solely to give or withhold my consent as her trustee, and now the situation has been resolved I intend to sail for Canada as soon as I can book a passage.’ He glared at Ashley as if expecting a rejoinder, but Ashley merely shrugged, opened the car door, and stood to one side with a smile.

  ‘In that case, sir, we’d better work quickly. I’m sure you’d like to know the truth of the matter before you go home. After you, Mr Lawrence.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Haldean tossed aside the newspaper on to the grassy bank and wriggled his back into the knobbly trunk of the weeping willow. This secluded spot by the river was one of his favourite retreats at Hesperus, but it was failing to bring him any comfort. The water gurgling smoothly over the shallow stones showed brown flecked with silver, a blackbird sang as if it was putting the river to music and a blue clump of brooklime flowered like a piece of captured sky, but neither the sight nor the sound had any power to soothe. The newspaper was dire, too. He had intended to put all thought of murder from his mind but Boscombe, Morton and, most insistently of all, Whitfield kept intruding on his thoughts.

  Three men, all shot with the same gun. Powder burns on Whitfield, powder burns on Morton. No powder burns on Boscombe but he had been killed from a few yards away. That would be a damn good shot with a small pistol. He was willing to bet it was the same gun that Whitfield had been clutching. But who had put the gun in Whitfield’s hand?

  He threw a stone moodily into the river. The sound of feet scrambling down the bank made him look round.

  It was Isabelle. ‘So there you are, Jack. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. A fat lot of use you’ve been. Don’t you know what’s happening?’

  ‘I know exactly what’s happening. Maggie Vayle’s having a fit. That’s why I’m out here. When I got back Sergeant Sykes had taken root in
the hall and there were significant and worrying noises coming from the morning room.’

  ‘I’m really sorry Greg’s in London,’ said Isabelle, sitting down beside him. ‘He wouldn’t have sloped off.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have given him any choice. I couldn’t face it, Belle. Maggie was all right. After all, she had you, Aunt Alice and Mr Lawrence all clucking over her. I’ve already seen one woman in tears today because of Whitfield’s untimely demise. I couldn’t stick another.’ He threw another stone in the water. ‘What’s she said about it all?’

  ‘She says she killed him.’

  ‘What?’ Haldean sat bolt upright.

  ‘Oh, don’t get so excited. She says he committed suicide because she was beastly enough not to believe him when he explained what he’d said at the ball. According to her, she’d broken Whitfield’s heart by being stubborn and mistrustful and it’s all her fault.’

  ‘Crikey.’

  ‘Yes. You should have seen that policeman’s eyes start bulging when she was carrying on. He couldn’t write it down fast enough.’

  Haldean sighed. ‘I wish to God she hadn’t turned up at the barn. What the dickens was she doing there in the first place?’

  ‘She says she cycled over with the idea of listening to hear what Mr Lawrence said to the Colonel. I think that if Whitfield gave a good account of himself she was going to declare everything on again. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. At least if he told Mr Lawrence a pack of lies they might be different lies from those he’d told her. Apparently she went out about ten o’clock. She didn’t say where she was going, of course.’