‘A good point,’ acknowledged LeCrane. ‘Fritch said she had thought of that but she assured him we’d be too ecstatic on getting him to overthink anything. What even so capable a murderess could not have foreseen was the impact on Jim Leighton when Sylvia Jones entered that hut yesterday afternoon. Miss Bradley had no way of knowing she was his former girlfriend and had come to Mullings on the desperately thin chance of discovering where he was so she could help him. This meeting would ruin all Miss Bradley’s carefully laid plans. Miss Jones gave Leighton what money she had in her purse. Very shortly after she left, promising to return, he took off through the woods towards the rear of the property and climbed atop a stack of logs in order to scale the wall. He was spotted carrying a bundle and heading for the railway station, where he took the train departing for London at 3.35 p.m., and was tailed continuously to the police station which was handling the earlier murder case. It was noted that on his way there he dropped the bundle in a waste bin. This was picked up and proved to be the wig and beard rolled in the robe. At a little after five he was telling the desk sergeant he had decided to turn himself in after discovering that Sylvia Jones was at Mullings in Dovecote Hatch and not wishing her further involvement. Other than that he refused to say more. By ten at night he had not budged. The night was spent in a cell.’
‘But when you came in, Inspector,’ Florence felt compelled to break in, ‘when Toffee … Miss Jones and I were talking and you asked her to accompany you to the station; you said there was someone waiting there who was anxious to see her, and that person was not, nor would be, placed under arrest. That has to mean Jim has been cleared of killing that old lady.’ She included Mrs Tressler in her look of intense relief.
LeCrane appeared as delighted as everyone else. ‘Oh, how the best laid plans fall apart! One could almost feel sufficiently sorry for Miss Bradley to hope she doesn’t hang – which I happen to think a barbaric proceeding. Early this morning the wife of the old lady’s nephew entered the police station in question and produced a pile of bloodstained clothing belonging to her husband that she’d found hidden in the coal shed. The wife then went to the police station door and beckoned her husband inside. He said he was glad to be found out, the strain had become too much. His reason for killing his aunt was that he’d gone into a frenzy when she refused to let him have the couple of hundred pounds for which he’d asked. He’d pretended to leave, waited until she dozed off and then stabbed her with a knife taken from a kitchen drawer. His escape was made by way of a side alley and could only have preceded by fifteen minutes Jim Leighton’s arrival on the scene.
‘And of course,’ added LeCrane, ‘you’ll want to know what happened to him next. As a sergeant was breaking the good news to Jim and was about to say he was free to leave, the telephone rang. The voice at the other end informed the sergeant about the murder at Mullings, which was bound to be of interest in that quarter because of the connection to Leighton. The sergeant immediately related the conversation to Jim. Fully aware of the motive that could be assigned to the girl he loved, our Jim began to talk.’
‘My dear Inspector,’ exclaimed Ned joyously, ‘I suspect you are a romantic.’
LeCrane’s smile was enigmatic. He rose from his chair. ‘And now I must regrettably leave you all. I have abandoned Wright long enough to the wretched business of offering hospitality to Miss Bradley. Much as I may despair of Fritch’s conduct, I do not think he should be the one to face the higher consequence of their adventures. I think learning of Miss Bradley’s other excursions into crime from the notes you made at the time, Mrs Norris, will decide Fritch against redeeming himself by one ennobling gesture.’
EPILOGUE
Very little of substance was said between Mrs Tressler, Ned and Florence after Inspector LeCrane left that evening. It was clear to both women that Ned was not ready for the conversation to tend towards his late grandmother’s death. The exhumation of her body would to him be an agonizing violation, and it was unlikely that LeCrane had mentioned the possibility only to give Madge Bradley a jolt. Florence soon excused herself to return to her duties. Ned had protested, but Mrs Tressler had said there would be plenty of time to talk in the morning, and if Mrs Norris felt as tired as she did, it was close on time for bed.
Mrs McDonald was agog for news, but Florence told her only that Miss Bradley had been arrested. Any further information must come from Lord Stodmarsh or Mrs Tressler. It was the first time she had referred to Ned that way. It had always been Mr Ned, but this no longer seemed appropriate now that he had matured so much.
She did not expect to sleep well, but did so. The next morning Ned sought her out as she’d known he would, but he simply looked at her with wordless gratitude followed by a hug and then was gone. She knew him too well not to understand. Shortly afterwards Mrs Tressler entered the housekeeper’s room where Florence was at her desk.
‘Please do remain seated, Mrs Norris,’ she said as Florence started to rise. ‘I won’t stay long; there will be plenty of time for many talks in the future. I do hope you will be pleased that Ned has asked me to come and live here.’
‘I’m delighted, Mrs Tressler. Your continued presence is exactly what he needs. And of course I wish for your happiness also.’
‘I have always liked you, Mrs Norris, and had the utmost trust in your judgement, so be assured that I fully understand why you did not take your early suspicions of Madge Bradley to the police. You would not have been believed, any more than I would have been. I warned Lillian when the rest of the family went to church on the Sunday of her death, that I was afraid for her safety. I’d seen such looks of hatred in Madge’s eyes when resting upon her, increasingly so after Lillian gave Edward the puppy and his delight in her thoughtfulness. His love for her was so evident.’
‘I glimpsed that same look, but it was gone too quickly for me to hold on to and I didn’t recall it until I visited my mother. She was wearing a navy dress. I wonder if Miss Bradley used pills prescribed for her after being left at the altar, something in the nature of valerian, maybe?’
‘Very likely,’ replied Mrs Tressler, ‘I had a bottle of those with me. My doctor thought I should have them in case I ever feared a return of my old symptoms. But when here I put them in my bag, which I always kept with me. I didn’t trust Madge Bradley not to go through my things. And clearly that was just as well under the circumstances. I’m convinced from what I saw in her eyes that her hate sprang from corrosive envy of a woman who was not only mistress of Mullings but was also deeply loved by a husband which she herself had failed to acquire. What in particular persuaded you, Mrs Norris, that Madge had murdered Lillian?’
‘Annie was interrupted, and went into a screaming panic while preparing the hot milk, by someone who mentioned a mouse. Mrs McDonald could not make head nor tail of it beyond a couple of words which were “wanted to return”. I spoke to Annie the next day and got the full story from her. Miss Bradley had come into the kitchen to return a reel of cotton she had asked me for earlier in the week and then pointed across the room, crying, “There goes a mouse!” The whole thing smelled of a ruse to distract Annie, whose terror of mice is known above as well as below stairs. Returning the cotton was unnecessary, but if Miss Bradley had felt compelled, surely she would have brought it to this room, where I would have been much more likely to have been found than in the kitchen.’
Mrs Tressler shook her head. ‘Such ruthless determination to destroy, whilst placing herself in a sympathetic light. I wonder if she imagined herself as wildly in love with that man as she did with Edward, for whom there was only one woman in the entire world. But she must have deluded herself he would turn to her as soon as would be socially acceptable after the funeral.’ Mrs Tressler had one other piece of news to offer before leaving the housekeeper’s room.
‘Gertrude just returned from spending the night with Miss Hendrick at the vicarage after leaving the hospital yesterday. The report on William this morning is encouraging. He is recovering and Gertr
ude is hopeful that she and Miss Hendrick are fully prepared to cope with an invalid in the cottage with a large garden they plan to buy in the village. Gertrude told Ned she is sure everyone will understand why she does not wish to continue living at Mullings.’
Florence spent a good deal of time in reflection that day. The recent past would recede. Grumidge and Molly would marry, and unless they had children – which Molly had always asserted she did not want, having done her share with little ones as the oldest of twelve – Molly would make an ideal housekeeper when she retired. Perhaps it was too early to think about taking a new path, but Florence could not deny the restlessness inside her and the reason for it.
The next morning she left Mullings at eight o’clock.
Ned and Mrs Tressler were standing at the study window and saw her walk down the drive towards the rear Mullings gates that she had first entered so long ago.
‘I know where our dear Florie is going,’ Ned said to his grandmother.
‘Of course you do, my dear!’ They stood watching until Florence turned on to the road.
Florence pictured George purchasing his morning newspaper and taking it with him to a bench on the green, no longer fearing its contents. But as she looked down the road, she saw him coming towards her, and from his joyous smile she knew there would be no need for words right now. A few moments later she looked up at him. A new start held no uncertainty when she walked arm-in-arm with an old friend.
Murder at Mullings--A 1930s country house murder mystery Page 31
