A Strange Manor of Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 3)

by R. A. Bentley

  Finding no vacant hook, Felix removed his hat from where he'd placed it, hung the battered-looking skeleton there instead, stuck the hat on its head, and watched with some amusement as Benyson rooted through the clutter on his desk. 'What does it look like? Can I help?'

  'No, it's here somewhere. Why the flat anyway? New girlfriend?'

  'How well you know me. Yes, I suppose so. I mean, I suppose it's why I got the flat. Bit awkward in digs, you know.'

  'What's she like?'

  'Young, beautiful, intelligent, inexplicably in love with me.'

  'Going to marry her, then?'

  'Perhaps.'

  'Perhaps! You're thirty-four, Miles, you're halfway to being Charlie. Ah! I knew it was here somewhere. What do you think?'

  Felix examined the unsavoury-looking object. 'Death mask?'

  Benyzon shook his head. 'Quite the reverse actually. Rather nicely done, I thought — the bloodstains and so on. Recognise him?'

  'Can't say I do.'

  'Well that's a bit surprising, because it's your serially-deceased friend, Sir Jasper.'

  'You got it off the pig! Let's have another look. Why yes, the nose certainly, and the cruel, sensual lips. Never trust a man with sensual lips. It seems a lot of trouble to go to for something barely seen. Then again, he wasn't one to do things by halves. He's the gentleman I wanted to see you about, as it happens.'

  'Not suicide then?'

  'It might have been, but I remain unconvinced. Howard, I have an idea on that score that I'd like to discuss with you.'

  Two hours later, Felix and his team were once again at the door of Knapperton manor house. Fudge greeted them with his usual austere courtesy. If he felt alarm at this unexpected intrusion, there was no sign of it on his impassive features.

  'Mr Fudge, with your permission, we wish to visit the new wing again. Has it been very much disturbed since we left?'

  'In accordance with your instructions, sir, the rooms have been reopened,' said Fudge. 'The maids have cleaned Sir Jasper's bedroom and tidied his study, but nothing else needed to be done. Naturally the maids' room is again in use. Do you wish me to accompany you?'

  'No, it's all right. I don't suppose Mr and Mrs FitzGreville have moved in yet, have they?'

  'I understand this is now their address, sir, but they are not yet in residence. They are currently on honeymoon, in the south of France.'

  'Oh, I see. And Miss FitzGreville?'

  'Miss FitzGreville is also in the south of France, sir. She has taken Miss Matthews with her. I believe they hope to meet with Mr and Mrs FitzGreville while they are there.'

  'Never ones to let the grass grown under their feet,' chuckled Rattigan as they climbed the stairs. 'Killigrew must have pulled all the stops out.'

  'He knows which side his bread's buttered, no doubt,' said Felix. 'I wonder what they'll think of that whining creature intruding on their romantic idyll? Not much, is my guess. Here we are.' Letting them into the maids' room, he began a meticulous exploration, peering into drawers, opening broom and airing cupboards and noting which side the door to Sir Jasper's apartment was hinged. 'Hmm. I think we'll have to go into the flat after all. I wonder if the key fits this door too? Yes it does.'

  Felix briefly surveyed Sir Jasper's living room, swept his gaze over the study, nodded with satisfaction and led them out again. 'Now for the servants. Blow! I'd forgotten. Young Nettie has moved to pastures new. Never mind, we can always get her back if required. Dabs and photos please, gents: all the doors, door knobs and finger-plates, here and in Lady FitzGreville's rooms. Also the water taps everywhere. Anything, in fact, that might have been handled. You know what we're looking for. This is a time to show your initiative. Did you do the wheelchair, by the way?'

  'Yes, sir, nothing on it.'

  They watched as Nash and Yardley went to fetch their equipment.

  'Doubt they'll find anything now,' said Rattigan.

  'No, but we can't not look.'

  Felix stood with Fudge and Doris at the dining table in the great hall, while Rattigan sat attentively with his notebook.

  'I realise this isn't going to be easy,' said Felix, 'but I want you to cast your minds back to dinnertime on the Saturday evening before Sir Jasper was found dead. Just to remind you, the competition was soon to end and people were, one supposes, very preoccupied with it. First of all, Mr Fudge, can you tell me at what time dinner officially began?'

  'It is normally, eight o'clock, sir,' said Fudge. 'However, given the circumstances we settled on the usual buffet, but a sit-down one.'

  'Who was serving?'

  'Me and Nettie, sir,' said Doris. 'I did the soup.'

  'Ah, good. So you might be able to remember in what order people arrived and when they left. Also, if there was anything a bit queer that either of you noticed I'd like you to tell me. How people behaved and so on.'

  'Mr Roger FitzGreville and Miss Vanda Beaufort-Smyth were somewhat late, sir,' offered Fudge. 'I passed them in the entrance hall.'

  'Yes, they were!' agreed Doris. 'I remember Mrs FitzGreville remarking on it.'

  'How late?' asked Felix.

  'Oh, about ten minutes, I should say. Yes, and later still, perhaps another five minutes, the Colonel arrived with Miss Charlotte, as she was then. I remember that particularly because the Colonel went and sat with Mr Egbert, who was already there, but Miss Charlotte sat with Mrs Beaufort Smyth. I wondered if she and Mr Egbert had had a tiff.' She warmed to her theme. 'Yes, especially as Mr Egbert left before she did. And then Mrs Austen got up and hurried after Mr Egbert as if she wished particularly to speak to him and Mr Austen followed. Now they did have a tiff, quiet like, because I heard them.'

  'The Austens had a tiff, do you mean?'

  'Yes, sir, before all that. But they weren't late. In fact, they were early. It was just them and Miss Joan to start with, and then the Tony FitzGrevilles came and then Mr Egbert.'

  'You said Miss Joan arrived early. When was that?'

  'I suppose about a quarter to eight, sir.'

  'Did she leave early as well?'

  'No, sir. Miss Joan is a slow eater; she just picks at her food,' said Doris, and received a disapproving look from Fudge.

  'Upon returning from my errand,' offered Fudge, 'I noticed the Colonel and Miss Charlotte in conversation with Miss Matthews in the entrance hall. I believe they were discussing the competition. Naturally,' he added, 'I only heard that in passing.'

  'Thank you, Mr Fudge. And did everyone eat a hearty meal? Anyone off their feed?'

  'Goodness!' said Doris. 'Well, they all had the soup; I do remember that. And Miss Charlotte had a second helping of tart. She's a pleasure to serve, is Miss Charlotte. Mrs FitzGreville, I should say.'

  Miss Vanda Beaufort-Smyth lived in the befitting luxury of a modern service flat, close to Regent's park. As always, a couple of photographers were to be found outside, hoping for an interesting visitor; or perhaps the star herself, decorously entering or alighting from a taxi. Fortunately, the tall, anonymous-looking man in plus fours, Norfolk jacket and trilby did not attract their interest.

  The uniformed doorman smiled and saluted as Felix mounted the steps. 'Morning, sir. Shall I ring up for you?'

  'No, it's all right thanks, Dawson. I want to surprise her.'

  He crossed the hushed and carpeted foyer, took the lift to the third floor, and with some trepidation, rang the bell. He'd contemplated bringing flowers but it was coals to Newcastle with Vanda and it would have looked as if he were in the wrong. After a brief wait, Nettie Betts opened the door. For a moment he stared at her in confusion. In little more than a month she had lost her puppy-fat and seemed to have grown two inches. The clumpy lace-up shoes and shapeless, ankle-length dress had gone, to be replaced by pretty T-bars, silk stockings, and a fashionable little black number that owed much to Coco Chanel. Probably was, a Chanel. Only an exiguous lace-trimmed cap and apron marked it as a uniform.

  The vast drawing room, he always thought, would not disgrace
a maharaja, albeit one of dangerously avant-garde tastes. Vanda, as cool and lovely as ever, stood waiting in the middle of it. He offered his hand. 'Hello Vanda.'

  'Don't be a fool, Miles,' she said, and stretched up to kiss him.

  Felix relaxed a little. 'What have you done to that child? I scarcely recognised her.'

  'She's not a child. What do you want?'

  'I want to know what you were doing just before dinner on the night of the murder. You may remember that you and Roger arrived late for it.'

  'Goodness, I haven't the least idea! Why then?'

  Nettie came in. 'There's a telephone call for the Inspector, ma'am. Sergeant Yardley.'

  Felix took it in the little telephone room off the hall. 'Felix here.' He listened with growing excitement. 'Paul, that's marvellous. Well done you chaps! Look, I can't talk now. I'll ring if I need you. Otherwise I'll be back shortly.'

  He returned to the drawing room. Nettie had slipped away. 'Vanda, show me your hands.'

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'Your hands. Show them to me.'

  Recoiling with mock alarm, Vanda began desperately to rub them together. '"Out, damned spot! Out, I say! — One, two. Why, then, 'tis time to do 't." There! See any bloodstains ducky?'

  '"More matter with less art," please. What's your glove size?'

  'Seven and a half — medium.'

  'Then I hereby absolve you of the murder of Sir Jasper FitzGreville, Baronet. Not that I ever thought you did it.'

  'Cor, mister!' said Vanda. 'Woz it someone wiv big 'airy 'ands then?'

  'Something like that. I'm sorry to have troubled you, and thank you for seeing me.'

  Vanda followed him to the door. 'Miles, wait.'

  'Yes?'

  'Miles, please don't leave like that. I know I've behaved shockingly but I've been so dreadfully afraid. Can you forgive me?'

  Felix smiled and shook his head. 'How can I not do? You know how much I care about you.'

  'Then come and sit down, please.'

  Felix sat down. He knew there was a revelation coming and wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

  'Miles . . . can I have a ciggy?'

  Felix lit one for each of them.

  'Before all this, were you aware of Jasper?' she asked.

  'Yes, he was "known to us" as the jargon has it. I can't tell you more, I'm afraid.'

  'I thought he probably was. He was a horrible, wicked man, Miles, a monster. He hurt me very much. Do you remember Pimlico Dreamer?'

  'Of course I do. It made your name.'

  'Yes, it did, and you probably thought I was making a mint of money out of it. But it never earned me a bean. It took everything I had, and more. I saw my mistake almost immediately but it was my first and I refused to close it. Foolish pride!'

  'And then Jasper came along?'

  'Yes.'

  'Did he blackmail you?'

  She nodded. 'Is that why he was known to you? I was scarcely aware of him before then. I'd never had anything to do with him as a child. He came backstage and offered to bankroll the show. I don't know how he discovered I was struggling but he did. It was business, we had an agreement, but that's not . . . what he wanted. Oh, Miles, this is very hard for me.'

  'It's all right, I can guess. Did it happen often?'

  'Yes, it did, for months. I was terrified of him, of what he might do if I refused. It drove Roger away from me. I couldn't face him. It was horrible. Then I met Cyril. I knew his predilections of course. He made no secret of them with me. He wanted respectability – and my fame, I suppose – but never anything else. He was a dear, kind, man. He paid off Jasper and gave me anything I wanted. I was, and remain, very grateful to him. Then he died.'

  'Felix gazed at her lovely, sad features, wanting to take away the pain but knowing there was nothing he could do. Nothing, rather, that he could undo. 'Vanda, I'm so sorry.'

  Vanda shook her head. 'It's all in the past now. You can see, can't you, why I didn't tell you before? I'd have been a prime suspect.'

  'Yes, I suppose you would.'

  'You know I would. And because I couldn't tell you that, I couldn't tell you the other thing.' She sat forward. 'He used to boast to me, Miles. I wasn't the only one. There were others.'

  An hour later they stood at the front door. 'Where is Nettie?'

  'I sent her to the pictures.'

  'I don't care to leave you alone.'

  'I won't be alone; Roger's coming round. I'll be all right once I'm working anyway; I always am.'

  'Does he know?'

  'Oh, yes. He's been very sweet. I love him, Miles, and he loves me. I know he's a rogue and will probably be unfaithful eventually, but for now . . .' She shrugged and smiled.

  Grim-faced, Felix took the stairs. She deserves better than that, he thought.

  Chapter Sixteen

  'First of all, sir,' said Felix, 'we've got Egbert FitzGreville.'

  'That's good news,' said Superintendent Polly, a little stiffly. 'Where was he?'

  They were both on their best behaviour, having with them the Assistant Commissioner, a notoriously sour and puritanical man, nearing retirement.

  'Menton, Cote D'Azur,' said Felix, careful to address them both. 'We took him off the train this morning. We haven't arrested him as there's nothing concrete to charge him with, but he's being very cooperative. My own view is he's innocent, though we can't say for certain at this stage. They'd motored down there in the Doble – or should I say steamed down? – and put up at the Hôtel Londres. Then a few days later Joan FitzGreville and Matthews joined them as arranged. Everything seemed entirely normal, he says, and they'd spent a pleasant evening at a restaurant, but the next thing he knew he was wandering naked along the plage with a splitting headache. They'd drugged him and taken everything, including, of course, his wallet and chequebook. It's my guess they'd planned it that way from the start; they must have known we'd get them sooner or later.'

  'He's lucky they didn't knock him on the head.'

  'That's what I said. I suppose it suggests she has some affection for him. He speaks decent French so was quick enough to tell the local police what had happened, but it was too late; they'd crossed the border. He kept insisting his wife had been abducted, and we had some difficulty in convincing him she's probably a murderer. I'm not sure he really believes it now. Not that she is his wife, of course, as she used false papers. The Doble was found in a backstreet in Genoa. Beyond that, we've no leads yet.'

  'What about the driver?'

  'They didn't take one. She did most of the driving apparently, and even made a running repair.'

  'And Miss FitzGreville?'

  'We're assuming she's with them.'

  The AC nodded thoughtfully. 'Care to give me some background, Felix? I've looked at your report of course.'

  'Certainly, sir. I suppose one can say it began twenty-four years ago. Matthews, then aged sixteen, hadn't been at the Manor very long when Sir Jasper got her in the family way. Ordinarily she'd have been kicked out of course, but Lady FitzGreville was an unusual woman. She knew well enough where the blame lay, and instead of punishing her maid she secretly paid for the child, Charlotte, to be looked after by an unmarried relative, a Miss Honoria Beaufort-Smyth. She even contributed towards her education. She then persuaded Matthews to stay on as Joan FitzGreville's Nanny, giving her a generous rise into the bargain. It was a great kindness, and Matthews was sensible enough to agree to it.

  'Perhaps Her Ladyship would have thought twice if she'd realised the depth of the girl's hatred for her husband, but Matthews appeared to have let bygones be bygones and gradually made herself indispensable to the household. In fact, she eventually became very close to her mistress, especially in her final years, and even received a small legacy from her. It seems, however, that she never forgave Sir Jasper, and when he came up with his extraordinary plan, she presumably saw an opportunity to make mischief.'

  'Very colourful, Felix,' said the AC dryly. 'I'd prefer the bald facts if you don
't mind. Where did all that come from anyway?'

  'Er, various people, sir, but mainly Sir Jasper's butler, Fudge, and Mrs White, the cook.'

  'Were they involved at all?'

  'No, sir. Mr Fudge is an elderly man, in his eighties. He's been with the family fifty years. Cook seldom leaves the kitchen; she's got a game leg.'

  'So presumably Matthews knew all about this bizarre will and the rest of it?'

  'We don't think she knew about the will, sir. All she and Fudge knew was that Sir Jasper planned to fake his own death. It would have been difficult to hide his presence in the house from either of them, so he told them the barest minimum, kept to his rooms and ordered them to keep quiet about it, which they did.'

  There was a knock at the door and a constable came in with a note for the AC, who read it, harrumphed, wrote something on the back of it and handed it back.

  'Yes, go on, Felix. Keep it brief.'

  'Yes, sir. After Sir Jasper's apparent demise, his solicitor, Mr Killigrew, left the task of contacting the family members to Joan FitzGreville, his co-executor under the will. She, in turn, passed it on to Matthews to do, and Matthews simply added her now grown-up daughter to the list. Sir Jasper would have been aware of the girl's presence in the house, of course, but Charlotte had long used her guardian's surname to avoid social embarrassment, and to him she was just an obscure Beaufort-Smyth. He'd asked for every family member and would have assumed she was one of them.

  'We don't know what Matthews and her daughter's plans were at this stage, but once they'd learned about the contents of will they would have realised there was a chance to get their hands on Sir Jasper's fortune, or some part of it. By then Charlotte had ensnared the bright but romantically inexperienced Egbert FitzGreville. This was a stroke of luck for them, as not only did the engagement warm the family towards an otherwise unknown young woman but he was largely instrumental in winning them the Manor.

  'They knew, of course, that Sir Jasper would eventually reveal himself to be alive, but they gambled that the respectable Killigrew wouldn't knowingly lend his name to such shenanigans, and that the will itself must therefore be genuine. Murdering Sir Jasper would ensure its provisions were met. By the time they shot him they would have known the odds were strongly in favour of Egbert and Charlotte winning the Manor, but in the event of failure there was still Egbert to be fleeced – quite a wealthy young man by their standards – and Matthews would still have had her revenge. However, it probably took Charlotte to persuade her to go through with it.'